


All That is Left

by BuffaloWrites



Category: Classical Music RPF, Franz Schubert - Fandom, Historical RPF, Ludwig van Beethoven - Fandom
Genre: Actually Beethoven is dead, Anton Schindler - Freeform, Franz Schubert - Freeform, I could also title this: I Really Hate Anton Schindler, Karl Van Beethoven - Freeform, Ludwig van Beethoven - Freeform, also historically inaccurate to hell and back, but Anton Schindler really did do these things and I am v bitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 01:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10232648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuffaloWrites/pseuds/BuffaloWrites
Summary: It's been three days after Ludwig Van Beethoven's funeral and Franz Schubert decides to once again visit the house Beethoven lived for his final days. There, he meets Beethoven's nephew, Karl Van Beethoven, and learns new things about his idol and a man named Anton Schindler.





	

The sky above Vienna had become dark as if even the sky was in mourning. Franz Schubert walked along the side of the street, humming to himself. For the first time in weeks, he was feeling well again. After Beethoven’s funeral, Franz had barely visited near the Schwarzspanierhaus. However, something was pulling him there once more. When he arrived just outside the main entrance, he looked up at the building. Schubert could still remember Beethoven telling him when he had visited with Hüttenbrenner, “You, Anselm have my mind, but Franz has my soul.” It was a small complement that Franz would bask in for the rest of his life. Yelling pulled him from his thoughts. A man was thrown out of the entrance door. He hit the ground with such a force that Franz thought he had broken something.

Another man rushed out after him while waving a small black book, “ _Nie_ come back here! If you do, I will call the _polizei_!”

The man that had been thrown out got up and looked at Franz, then at the other man, “You’re making a huge _fehler_ , Karl!” With that, he gathered himself and scurried away.

When Karl decided that the man was far enough away from the Schwarzspanierhaus, he turned to go back inside. However, Franz caught his attention. “Do you have any business here?” Karl asked.

Franz smiled nervously. He had no intention of being treated the same way the man had been. “M-my name is Franz Schubert,” He started, and held his hand out, “I was a fan of Ludwig Van Beethoven, a former resident here.”

“ _Mein onkle_ ,” Karl said.

Franz realized his hand would never be taken, so he pulled it back. It was a surprise—a pleasant surprise. He knew that Beethoven did not have any children, but was unaware of the fact that he had a nephew. Of course, he could have never guessed Karl and Beethoven were related by just looking at Karl. Karl had more feminine features with large, dull eyes that softened after he seemed to get over his anger with the man he had thrown out. “Would you like to come in?” Karl asked.

“I would love to,” Franz replied.

Franz followed Karl into the house. He remembered which door it had been and thanked Karl for holding it open for him. Unlike his last visit, the main room was almost completely bare. The only pieces of furniture left were the piano and seat. Sheets of paper littered the floor, some of them had looked burned or torn, and a messy stack of small books were in the far right corner of the room. “Forgive me for not being able to offer you anything to eat or drink,” Karl started, “many of _mein onkle’s_ friends started to remove things for me before I managed to return to Vienna.”

Franz nodded, “It’s _fein_.”

“ _Damit_ , you said you were a fan of _mein onkle_. How did you find that he lived here?”

“I actually visited him with _Herr_ Hüttenbrenner a few days before his…funeral,” Franz answered. The papers on the floor caught his attention. He walked over to one and picked it up, “Was this one of his pieces?”

Karl nodded as he sat down at the piano, “ _Ja_ , it was one of his unfinished works. One of the small ones that he was working on before his death. At least, that’s what’s left after that…that bastard tried to burn everything.”

Franz’s attention went to Karl, “May I ask whom you’re referring to?”

“Anton Schindler,” Karl answered, “the man I threw out earlier. He worked for a short while for _mein onkle_ , and returned after his death. He claimed to want to preserve a certain light to _mein onkle_.” He gripped the black book in his hands even tighter.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Karl stood over the piano flipping through a collection of bits and pieces his uncle had left behind. There was a stack of Conversation Books in the corner he had planned to box and bring with him. The sound of the front door opening made Karl jump. A man slipped in and looked as equally surprised as Karl. “ _Hallo_ ,” Karl started, “may I ask how you have a key to _mein onkle’s_ home?”

The man pulled out a card and walked to Karl, “Mein name is Anton Schindler. I worked for _Herr_ Beethoven for a few years before his death. I came to retrieve his works and other documents as his former secretary.”

Karl took Anton’s card and stared at it for a while before handing it back, “Thank you, _Herr_ Schindler, but since _mein onkle_ is no longer here, your business is no longer needed. Thank you for aiding him during his final years.”

Karl had recognized the man’s name. Stephan Von Breuning—one of Beethoven’s close friends—had told Karl a little about Anton. He told Karl about Anton taking many of Beethoven’s works or even conversation books. This made Karl’s skin crawl. The Conversation Books were none of Anton’s business and he had no right to be reading them or taking them. The books held conversations between Beethoven and friends, and even some contained conversations between Beethoven and Karl. The worst information that Breuning had told Karl was that he suspected Anton of burning or destroying the pieces or books. Karl wanted the man to leave as soon as possible, but Anton was walking over to the Conversation Books in the corner. Karl watched him flip quickly through one. “Is…is it true that you have been taking mein onkle’s things?” He asked.

“Only for documentation,” Anton replied.

Karl walked up behind him and took the book from his hands, “Or have you been burning them?”

Anton froze for a second, “The…the public should not be prying into a great man’s life—

“Then why are you?”

“I am only trying to paint him in the light he respectively deserved. Your _onkle_ was more than the common man.”

“ _Mein onkle_ would have you forced from his home!” Karl snapped, “ _Mein onkle_ believed every person was equal and you have him rolling in his grave for that! You have no right to damage any of his things! Get out, you _schurke_!”

Anton tried to dodge Karl grabbing him, but Karl was quicker than Anton. He carried him down the stairs by the shirt collar, opened the door, and threw Anton out of the building. All the while, he was holding a Conversation Book in the other hand. That’s when he met Franz.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Franz listened intently until Karl was done. When Karl finished, Franz asked him, “Do you miss your _onkle_?”

Karl nodded, “ _Ja_ , a lot. I wish I had been here before he died. I…I want to apologize to him. For running off to join the army…for treating him like I did when he just wanted to make a better life for me…and for a few more things. He was so distraught over me joining the army…you should have seen him. He was convinced that I would die. He probably died thinking I was dead because I never visited him after returning home. He probably didn’t even know I’m still alive.”

Franz could only nod. He had no idea what to say to Karl. He was never the best with comforting others and he could not imagine the pain Karl must be feeling. None of the mourning hearts that were at the funeral could possibly compare to Karl’s. It was different to actually live with and know Beethoven. Franz sighed, “I must be going. Thank you for having me, _Herr_ Beethoven.” The words seemed to numb his mouth and spill out awkwardly. Franz couldn’t help it, it was the same words he had told Ludwig Van Beethoven before leaving.

Karl waved his hand, “Please, just call me Karl. Goodbye, _Herr_ Schubert.”

He watched Schubert leave. After Schubert closed the door, Karl stared at the black book in his hand. He then pressed it to his forehead and whispered, “I’m sorry, _onkle_.” 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's not dead! Anyway, I really hate Anton Schindler for the things he did to Beethoven's left behind works and conversation books. This was sorta fueled by my hate for him. Feel free to leave comments or Kudos! Both are very much appreciated! <3


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